


The Krampus-Hound

by EffingEden



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Gen, Kurosecretsanta, Kurosecretsanta 2015, Sebaciel Secret Santa 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 07:19:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5530775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EffingEden/pseuds/EffingEden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ciel suffers night terrors, but Sebastian is always there to chase them away (in one form or another)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Krampus-Hound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alicia-midford](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Alicia-midford).



> This piece is a gift for Alicia-midford and based on a bit of meta by 2oulle22-lover http://2oulle22-lover.tumblr.com/post/103800868516
> 
> Even though this was a pairing focused secret santa, my giftee requested a gen-fic, go figure. I was all prepped to write a steamy prequel to Housecat, too. Ah well. Enjoy~

Ceil heard his father talking in the Billiard Room, his tone rising and falling, an intensity in his tone that was undermined by the other he spoke to, that man’s voice wavering and breaking with eerie giggles. Ciel wasn’t meant to go in there, and certainly not meant to interrupt his father’s discussions, but he’d promised to build a snowman with him this morning, and already the sun was sinking low in the sky. Soon there wouldn’t be light enough. He would go by himself, but the cold could bring on an asthma attack, and Tanaka wouldn’t allow him out without his father’s overriding command.

He was torn between his father’s promise and his own to stay out of his father’s way while in there, so stood and stared at the door in hopeless conflict.

“You there,” a deep, heavily accented voice rumbled. “Boy, what mischief are you up to?”

He turned, eyes wide and fearful, caught but another of his father’s friends. This man was familiar in a distant way, someone he had seen before when he stayed up late enough and watched riders and carriages draw up long after the sun had set. He had never spoken to him before, and hadn’t been introduced. The man was very imposing, broad shoulders and heavy set, dark hair kept neat and wore military clothes, not an English uniform but still sever and made Ceil cower back. He shook his head, denying he was causing trouble.

The man came closer, scowling down at him, snow dropping in clods from his highly polished boots. “You better learn manners - Saint Nicholas is coming soon and Krampus on his heels.” 

Ceil pressed back against the door, but he didn’t understand. He knew the Saint brought gifts, leaving them under the tree on Christmas Eve, but the other name was meaningless to him. 

The man seemed to realise his confusion and snorted derisively at Ciel’s ignorance. “Not heard of Black Pete? Black as coal, half again your father's height and covered all over in fur. Great curved goat horns and burning red eyes, full of hate and hunger.” He lifted one hand, as if wielding a cane, and continued, “One hand holds a birch switch, ready to stripe the backside of any little boy who misbehaved, and in the other a sack in which he puts the worst child and takes them away to be his supper.” 

Ceil was gasping with terror, his eyes wide and watering, his mouth gaped open as his imagination took hold of the creature the man described. When the solid wood behind him gave way, he cried out and tumbled back, falling at his father’s feet as he stood in the doorway. 

“Diedrich, we’ve been - Ciel? Ciel, it’s all right,” his father knelt, but Ciel scrambled back, taking shelter behind his father’s figure. The Earl turned and looked at his imposing friend even as he laid a settling hand over his son’s shoulder. “Diedrich, what did you do?”

The man lifted his shoulders. “Nothing, just told him a fairytale about the season. Found him listening at the keyhole.” 

Vincent turned his gaze back to Ciel, softening his expression from the dark scowl to concern and disappointment. “Is that right? Were you listening?” There was a soft chuckle from the pale haired man lounging in a wingback chair by the hearth, but his father’s eyes stayed fixed on him. 

Miserably, Ciel shook his head, a sob hitching in his chest and tears truly burning in his eyes now. “The snow,” he explained with a soft warbling voice. 

His father’s brow tugged together, then rose as understanding broke over him. “I’m so sorry, Ciel, it slipped my mind. It’s too cold now, but tomorrow morning. I promise.” He took Ciel into his arms and stood, hoisting him high. “Let’s find your mother, I think Lady Red is visiting with her before we get down to business.” He was carried away from the room, the man with pale hair and a wide grin waving him farewell. Ciel his his face in the crook of his father’s neck, clinging to the warm, solid safety of his father’s grip.

\---

That night, when all was still, the fires banked and Tanaka gone to bed, Ciel creeped out of his room. He had dressed himself in that day’s clothes, the buttons difficult to work through stiff cloth, but he managed well enough, and even pulled his boots on. Soft, so softly he walked through the dark mansion, down the main staircase, the only sound a grandfather clock tick-tick-ticking away the seconds. 

He scurried across the vast expanse of the entrance hall, and tried the door. Tanaka usually locked it, but he was a little forgetful. Sometimes he was sent to get a tray of tea and would return with nothing but that day’s post, or misplace some piece of clothing and not know where it had gone to. So perhaps... perhaps he had forgotten the door? 

For a moment he thought he was not so lucky, but after a moment the door swung open, not even creaking as was it’s usual. The gardens stretched out before him, the lawns perfectly carpeted in white, so brilliantly bright under the full moon he gasped.

He knew he was being wicked, knew that the cold would hurt his lungs soon, force them tight and give him nothing but shallow pants to sustain himself with. But he wanted to build a snowman for his father to see tomorrow, one so tall it could peek in through the windows, or an army of them marching over the hill and a long way off, to protect them, cold hearted sentinels who would keep all the wicked men away.

Then his father wouldn’t have to chase them. Then he could play with him, and not have to deal with strange and terrifying nobles with their strange accents and giggling laughs.

So he stepped out, into the snow.

It crunched and squeaked underfoot, his small footprints dented the perfect flat canvas. He took a few more steps out, looking up at the huge, low moon. He could almost reach up and touch it, it was so close. 

This was perfect - and it would be even more perfect tomorrow. They would be so proud of him! He dropped to his knees and started to gather up snow, making a snowball and rolling it to make it larger and larger, until it was bigger than his head. 

And then he heard it. 

That  _ giggle _ .

He looked up, alarmed, casting about for the source. The snow covered lawn stretched as far as he could see. He turned to look back at the house, but it wasn’t there. Instead, there was a darkly dressed man. No, not a man. Too tall, and his limb were jointed oddly, his arms long and tipped with wickedly curved claws. A cat-like tail swished a curled behind his back, and over his shoulder was a heavy, squirming bag. His mouth sagged open, that maw gleaming red and wet with rows of fangs... and oh, oh its eyes burned bright, twin embers that were fixed on him.

_ It was Krampas. _

And then it spoke, in a terrible distorted voice, “Boy, what mischief are you up to?” It had never been meant to speak, not in human words, yet it could, it did and it made Ciel feel sick. He lurched to his feet and the creature come on, stalking him as a wolf would a lamb, slowly closing the distance until all that was needed was one sudden dash - 

No, he wouldn’t be stolen, he wouldn’t let this thing stuff him in that sack! He turned and ran and ran, the thing behind him laughing at his back, loping after him, it’s long legs dealing with the snow better than Ciel’s could, and he knew he couldn’t escape but he had to try - his legs tangled in something and he fell heavily, not to soft snow but rugged floor, a confused double vision of the white lawn and his bedroom existing as one for a moment before bleeding to the familiar room - familiar but for the tall dark shape that loomed over him.

_ It was in his room it had followed him out of the dream it was here, it was here _

Ciel screamed, high and filled with terror, dieing fast as his lungs were crushed under its grip those eyes glowing over him -

“Ciel!”

Warm hands closed tight around him lifted him and held him close. “It’s alright, it’s alright, it was only a dream,” his father murmured, hand rubbing his back. “You’re safe, I’m here. Hush. Hush...” It was so difficult to breath, only the smallest gasps. It made his head spin terribly, and he clung desperately to his father, tears spilling down his face in silent streams, the laboured wheeze of his breathing his only noise. 

When he managed to stop crying, his father stood slowly. “Let’s go wake up Tanaka, hmn? And we’ll see if we have any laudanum or a cigarette to help you.”

\---

The next day he stayed in bed, his father coming in to read to him and smoke his pipe, the rich smoke of his tobacco more for Ciel’s benefit than for his own leisure, his mother joining them with some embroidery after she had returned from visiting their neighbours, the Midfords. 

The day passed dreadfully slow, the strain to get enough air a perpetual battle. It was an exhausting and dull battle, but he was feeling somewhat recovered by the time evening came on, and managed to slip quietly asleep.

He dreamt of nothing. 

He didn’t know what woke him. The room was dark and still, no sound at all, the faint scent of smoke lingering in the air. Unease prickled over him, a sense of someone, something, close by. He held his breath, listened hard.

There! A soft rush, a dry hiss of breath, coming from under his bed. 

It was under his bed. It was under his bed it was underhisbeditwasunderhisbeditwasunderhisbed - and it was waiting for him to fall back asleep, close his eyes, and it would take him. His breathing came in short gasps; he knew he had to run, get to his parent’s room because there he would be safe, but it would mean putting his feet on the floor where it could reach him and the fear of that thought, the dread of it reaching out and curling it’s long fingers around his heel froze him in place - 

Then it giggled, that vile sound, and he thrashed himself free of his bed covers and jumped off the bed, as far from the dark gap under his bed as he could, staggered as he landed and ran hard for the door. He knew it was right behind him, didn’t dare glance back as he dragged the door open, and ran down the corridor to the master bedroom. He crashed through the door, startling his parents away. 

“What? Who- Ciel?” His mother’s voice, high with concern. He ran to her, climbing onto the bed. “Darling, whatever is the matter? Vincent, he’s shaking-”

“He’s coming!” he warned them, pointing to the doorway. “He was under my bed, he’s coming!” 

“Who?” His mother said, alarmed, but Vincent stood in a rush, a revolver in his hand pointing at the doorway. His mother stroked his hair and cautioned, “Aim lower, to question them - and what if Tanaka heard?”

“Yes,” His father said, his voice rough with sleep, little more than a growl, but he lowered his aim, not looking from the door. 

His mother cupped his face and stroked his hair. “Who was it? Did you see them?”

He shook his head, but stammered out, “K-krampus! He’s after me, I did bad things and now he’s after me.”

There was a long silence. “ _ Diedrich _ , that toad,” his father growled, a tension easing from the line of his back, but he didn’t lower his hand, didn’t look from the door. “I will go kill it for you, and then back to sleep.”

“No!” Ciel squeaked, reaching for his father to hold him back even as he started towards the doorway. “It’ll eat you too!”

His mother stroked his hair, held him close in her soft, comforting embrace. “There now, your father has much sharper teeth than any beast on the Continent. Even this one. He hunts monsters every day, he knows how to dispatch them.” 

He blinked at her, never having heard what his father did, but even in his child’s naivete he did not quite believe his quiet, calm, bookish papa was such an adventurous hero as that. Then - a sharp retort clove the air, making them both jump and cling to each other. His mother looked even more alarmed, as if she hadn’t expected Vincent to use a gun to kill it. She moved Ciel off her lap, pushing him firmly down to the floor. “Under the bed, and don’t make a sound, no matter what,” she whispered, and he slid into that dark yawning space, his vision of the room cut to ankle height. 

His mother moved quickly, and he heard another metallic clack-clack, like his father’s revolver had made, but louder. Bigger? She dashed across the room on silent, bare feet, hiding against the wall. It wasn’t a very good hiding spot, she would be seen easily but not right away.

And they waited, neither daring to move, barely breathing, only the soft distant tick of the grand old clock telling them of the passing of time.     

Then - a scuff. Something was in the hallway.

“All clear,” came his father’s voice, calling out from a distance from the door. 

His mother groaned relief. “Was firing that gun meant to be funny,” she demanded, her anger startling Ciel. She never got angry, not ever. “Phantomhive, I swear you will turn me grey.” She stormed towards the door, but there was his father’s feet. She did something that surprised a laugh from his father and their feet moved as if they were dancing, only mother was leading and their steps came to an abrupt end and a thud, the laugh becoming muffled then melting into a soft and happy sound - Ciel squirmed forwards through the dust so he could peep out, and saw his mother had pushed his father to the wall and was kissing him, a very large gun forgotten in one hand. Disgusting. 

He pulled himself free, and they stopped their display, his mother still peevish but much more relaxed now, moved primly back to the wardrobe and disarmed the gun before stowing it in her undergarments. His father bent and picked him up. “I found it creeping about and sent it back to hell. Don’t worry, Ciel, it’s Diedrich who is on the naughty list, not you.”

“But how do you know,” he whispered, worried.

“I know a person who knows a person, and they let me read the list.” He tapped the side of his nose, conspiratorially.

Vincent started to carry him towards the door, but Ciel struggled in his grip. “Can... may I stay?” He was still so very afraid.

His father stopped, sighed and carefully turned towards his wife who ad sat back down upon the bed. 

She gave a long suffering sigh and shut her eyes. “One night,” she agreed. 

\---

Ciel had the same nightmare the next night, and the next. He could only settle enough to sleep when he lay between his mother and father, but even then he woke himself with a cry of terror, the dark twisted form of Krampus looking over the bed, reaching for him, for his parents -

He pressed his face to his mother’s neck, shivering a little against the memory. “This can’t go on,” she said, and he shrank a little under the pang of guilt he felt, but she toweled his hair, and it was his father who answered.

“I have an idea. It’s christmas eve tomorrow; I think I can talk old Saint Nic into letting Ciel have a gift early. Something very special.”

\---

His father left the house early in the morning, riding a horse out over the fresh snow and waving back to them before vanishing out of sight. His mother took him to the mourning room and built the fire high, and Tanaka came along after mother had listened to him reading out loud for a time with a pot of hot spiced tea (chilli chai, to ward off the cold) in fine cups with daffodil motifs, and gingersnap biscuits still warm from the oven.   

His mother insisted the butler join them for a cup, and the three of them played several card games that had complicated rules he struggled to understand but enjoyed anyway.

Lunch came and went, and his mother took up her sewing needle and they sang christmas songs to each other, his mother’s voice as beautiful as a nightingale, his own wobbling, off key but it didn’t matter because it made his mother smile so very brightly. 

The sun was low in the sky when his father returned to them, his horse clattering to a stop, great plumes of smoke rising from its nostrils. His father dismounted, careful with something wrapped up, a bundle he had wrapped his scarf around and stuffed down the front of his coat. Vincent’s ear tips and nose were reddened from the bite of the cold, but he grinned at Ciel when he spotted him in the window and strode up the steps, singing loud, his voice a deep brassy rumble.

_ “Good King Wenceslas looked out, on the Feast of Stephen,  
_ _ When the snow lay round about, deep and crisp and even.” _

Tanaka went to the door, opening it as one of the serving boys led the horse back to the stableyard. Vincent strode in, grinning so wide Ciel felt himself grin back. He father herded him into the warm and welcoming sitting room, turning away from his son for a moment to catch his wife’s hands in his own and kiss her fingertips to hear her gasp at the chill of his flesh. He chuckled and released her, kneeling between Rachel and Ciel. “Now this is a very rare and precious thing,” he said, looking at Ciel with seriousness, though he still burst with christmas cheer. “I had to travel all the way to Lapland-” 

“Lapland,” Ciel echoed with a soft exclamation. He had never heard of the place, therefore it must have been very far indeed. 

“Oh yes, Lapland. Where the sky is always midnight and painted with a rainbow curtain,” he raised a hand, waved it gently overhead. “Where trolls walk and wage terrible wars and the the natives are smaller than you, and ride upon deer with ivy weathed in their antlers. That is where St Nicholas resides, when it is not christmas eve. It is where he works tirelessly all year round to make all the children of the Empire his gifts. I went there, and I told St Nich about the troubles you’ve been having with Krampus... and he told me there was no way to kill him, yet there was one thing that would stop him in his tracks and run him to earth. How do you run a fox to earth, Ciel?”

Ciel’s eyes were wide with wonder and excitement, but he blinked at the question, brows twisting together. “With hounds.”

“That’s right!” He unbuttoned his coat and pulled his wrapped scarf out - and it wriggled against his grip. He set it down quickly, out out spilled a midnight back, long muzzled hound with huge paws and sharp little teeth. “This is one of the rarest, more precious breeds. It hunts the nightbeasts, the stalkers and the ghouls. He has a taste for Krampus’ blood and it will not let him near. He will protect you and love you, and there will be nothing in the world he won’t kill to keep you safe.” 

The puppy panted, its maw hanging open and its red, red tongue lolling out. Ciel extended a hand cautiously and the little creature wagged its long tail and licked his fingers. “Oh!” Ciel gasped, touched its silken head and rubbed its ears. “What’s his name?”

“Hmn,” Vincent mused. “What do you think, beloved?”

His mother tapped her chin then nodded. “He needs a strong name, one that means all that he is. A bastion. Sebastian.”

“Sebastian,” Ciel echoed as his new friend and pet huffed and snuggled his cold nose against his neck.

\---

Ciel played with Sebastian late into the night before his mother insisted he go to bed. He feared they would make him leave his new protector downstairs, but his father quickly told him no, Sebastian was to sleep at the foot of his bed where he could snap and growl at any evil thing that dared step too close. And so, Ciel fell asleep with the puppy, a warm and soft guardian who twitched and whimpered gently in his sleep.

And Krampus stayed away, he did not visit again, not that Ceil knew. Sometimes, especially around Christmas, he thought about the terror but Sebastian stayed close and licked his hands and face when he get scared of the shadows. 

\---

Years passed, and they both grew, Sebastian becoming a sleek and swift tattered piece of night sky, never growling, rarely barking, but quick to play and always lay down with Ciel and guarded him as he slept. 

And then came the human monsters, and Ciel found there was no protection from them.

He got a new Sebastian after that. He occasionally regretted giving the demon his dog’s name, but in the moment it had seemed like the only option. Sebastian protected him from monsters, and so anything that did so must be called Sebastian, too. 

It made sense, in the starved, feverish, horrific aftermath of pain and viscera. After all, a guardian who didn’t have sharp teeth and a savage streak wasn’t much of a guardian, and more like a stuffed rabbit.     

\---

He didn’t know what had woken him. 

All was quiet, the hearth dark and cold with not even a single smoldering coal, and the air that touched his face was biting. The curtains had not been pulled too, and the ethereal glow of moonlight on snow spilled in, sending a slant of light across the floor and up the wall. Hadn’t he drawn those to? He squirmed a little wriggling down into the heat of his duvet, curling his legs in just a little. He wanted to fall asleep - but his heart was racing and fear rippled under his skin. Something wasn’t right. 

The curtains moved, as if someone had brushed against them. He tensed, but reason won out after a moment - the window must be open. It would stand to reason why it was so cold. He should get up. Close it. 

It took him several moments to build up the courage to brave the cold but he couldn’t shut his eyes now that he he saw the curtains move. Something primal in him kept him from shutting his eyes for longer than a blink. He had to close them, or else... or else...

Fragments of memories, distant and old and half forgotten. Something ancient and terrible and so very hungry...

A child’s fear. He was not a child any more, he wouldn’t let some fairytale overpower him!

With a huff of breath he struggled free of the sheets, swinging his legs free, gasped at the aching chill of the floor. Quickly, he moved over to the window, pushing the curtain open so he could fasten the window. It was wide open, showing him the blank expanse of the lay covered in perfect, unmarred snow that gleamed bright in the moonlight. 

Only... it wasn’t perfect.

There was a line of footprints in the snow, from the far off trees in the south right up to the mansion. To right under his window.

And they weren’t human footprints, more like a goat’s, or a cow’s. Broad, circular, cloven, only unlike a goat or a cow, it wasn’t a track made by four feet, there was no scuffing, no overlap. Whatever had done this walked on two feet.

“S... Se.. b...” he started to say, struggling to get the name out, his voice a bare whisper, shivering and high in the cold air - cut off by a sound, an awful sound, familiar and nauseating. A giggle from behind him.

He turned, pressed himself to the glass, but there was nothing. No one. 

His breathing was swift, shallow. He needed to get out of this room. Something was going on, someone ( **s o m e t h i n g** ) was here. He had to get to his parents  -  _ theyweredeadtheyweregonetheycouldn’thelp  _ \- to Sebastian. He took a half-step towards the door, gasped and jerked aside as something cold touched his bare foot. It was a small clump of snow, crushed into the rug. There was another farther into the room, closer to the bed. And another, just where the shadows deepened under it. 

Slowly, he bent, peering into that dark space.

Just darkness. Nothing but shadow. Nothing, nothing - but a gleam. Two gleams, the moonlight catching a pair of red, red eyes and a row of sharp dreadful teeth.  _ Itwashereitwashere-  _

“ _ Sebast- _ ” Ciel started to scream, but the thing rushed at him, eyes wide and burning, maw gaping as it laughed and wrenched out of its hiding space, unfolding long limbs, filling the room, far too big to have hid in the small place under his bed but it was  _ coming _ for him and  _ it didn’t matter _ how, just that it had, and it was going to eat him - 

Ciel flung himself at the window as its clawed hand snatched at him, scoring hot lines across his chest and stomach, but he was out of reach, falling, falling - “Sebastian!” he managed to shout out, just before he -

hit the ground, hard, painfully. And it was so dark, how was it so dark, where was the moon - where was the snow -

“Bocchan?”

A piece of darkness swirled, deepened, and for a moment, an awful moment there were red eyes, fixed on him, and it was here,  _ it was here _ \- he choked on a scream and there was a gun in his hand (not his father’s, that was long gone but the same make, the same model) his finger squeezed, the muzzle flashed, sound roaring, and the piece of living night staggered. 

“Oh, bocchan,” the darkness all but purred, those eyes swirling red, pupils narrowed, excited slits. “What has you so afraid? Not dreaming about me, were you?”

Ciel could only just hear him speaking, his ears ringing from the loud retort of his gun, but the voice, the familiar tone, even the teasing, helped to ground him, helped him wake from the nightmare. “Seb... Sebastian?”

The darkness straightened itself and moved towards him with a prowl of a predator. Ciel found himself lifting the gun again with hands that didn’t shake, though he was shivering all over. That threat stopped the demon, and after a moment he sank to his knees, to bring him closer to Ciel’s level. “Yes. I am here. I am always here.”

“I... I though... I saw...”

“Yes?” Sebastian hissed, his tone hungry as it was curious. “Tell me, bocchan.”

“Kr-” Ciel started, but his voice cracked and failed. His fear was slow to recede, clinging to him tight and mercilessly. “Krampus.”

“Ahh, that carrion eater. He is but a scavenger seeking scraps.”

The young lord stared at his demon, almost all his features lost in the dark of the room, but his eyes were glowing, their kaleidoscopic patterns twisting slowly, unblinking. “I - it’s real?” he asked, horrified at the thought. Had it really been here?

“Inasmuch as a collective thought can be. He passes through dreams, unable to take form and sate the hungers he was created with. He has no real will or ability. Think of him as a kite, caught in the winds of a storm. A child’s toy, nothing more.” He tilted his head a little, eyes narrowing in amusement. “Would you like to get off the floor now, bocchan?” Ciel nodded stiffly, not sure he was ready to stand yet, but Sebastian seemed to know it. He stood smoothly, stepped close and picked Ciel up gently, returning him to his rumpled and cold bed. 

Sebastian started to slide away, but Ciel’s hand darted out, graped his butler’s shirt front. “Don’t,” he said, not relaxing his grip, leaning into him. “I need you close. Just. Just until I fall asleep.” 

The demon sighed softly, but settled on the edge of the bed after he pulled the blankets over Ciel’s legs and tucked him in, then took the gun from Ciel’s hand and put it back under his pillow. “You are certainly very needy when you’re startled, bocchan. Do not fear, I will always be at your side. To the very last.” 

Ciel eased his grip a little, reassured, leaned his head on Sebastian’s shoulder and gazed up at those malevolent eyes that hovered over him. “Can you make it stay out of my dreams?” he asked, not wanting to see it again.

He made a deep, thoughtful sound in his chest. “I can. It would mean killing him, and something else may coalesce to take his place, but it wouldn’t be Krampus.”

The demon’s hand teased gently through his hair, soothing him, the other stroking his back slowly. It was comforting, Sebastian warm and solid and familiar. “Do it.”

Teeth flashed in a brief grin in the dark. “Yes, my lord.”

Ciel shut his eyes, and slowed his breathing to match the steady, slow pace on Sebastian’s hand movement. The demon started to hum softly, a gentle and haunting refrain that repeated, and repeated, and led Ciel finally back to his slumber. 

He never dreamed of Krampus again, but sometimes he did see a piece of darkness with glowing eyes and a hungry, sharp grin.

**Author's Note:**

> Please remember to comment if you enjoyed, kudos is nice but comments let me know what I should update. 
> 
> Historical notes; 
> 
> Victorian asthma relief (cigarette/pipe tobacco, laudanum, and more) http://fuckyeahcharacterdevelopment.tumblr.com/post/115566876478/do-you-have-anything-about-an-asthmatic-in-the


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